The world is always burning. Buying toilet paper won't put out fires.
You see us. We need to see you, too.
Dear Reader,
Happy spring. We’ve not been very active over here. That’s for multiple reasons. For a large portion of last year and into this year, I was dealing with health issues that diminished my energy. Energy I had already committed to growing another community,
so it didn’t falter in its infancy. I’m happy to report that both my health has improved immensely and we were able to celebrate our first year up and running.
That meant I couldn’t keep every spinning plate (what I’ve come to refer to all the things in my life) in the air. I took the advice of some sage friends, telling me that I can’t do everything all the time. I can’t do everything seemingly alone. I need to put some things down, especially if I wasn’t feeling as charged as I typically do. I find I need to be told this a lot. It’s something I still need to decolonize within myself.
My parenting journey, when I look at it from the outside (with my inside knowledge) feels like one of just making it through. I’m now at the point where I feel I can turn it around and still offer many better years of childhood. I was running at a deficit for the first decade and when I reached a sharp turn 3 years ago (into what I thought was bodily freedom), the train derailed. I didn’t realize it then because the symptoms came in sudden waves. Suddenly, I was sick all of the time for no apparent reason. I gained so much weight, none of my clothes fit. This is an important thing to note, because I do not shop for clothes. I have a DKNY jacket I bought my senior year of high school that I still fit and I’m 43. Well, now I kind of fit it. So I don’t budget for clothes—pretty much ever.
This is probably the most personal I will ever be here, but it feels like a necessary series of moments to share. It’s important to remember the people behind the project. The full lives behind the work. The complicated lives. The lives that need rest and restoration. It’s important to remember we were never created to be machines. I feel like I was slowly falling apart on the inside—only slightly aware, not realizing the impact it was having. I thought this version of me was who I was until I finally received help that brought back a fuller sense of passion for life. My hormones were extremely out of whack and doctors didn’t listen to me for 2.5 years. No one bothered to look beyond the symptoms.
This Woman’s History Month, I want to take a moment to think about all the invisible labor—that sometimes hard labor—that goes into everything we create. Not only the finished project, but all the other things that do and don’t happen in order for something to exist. All the hard work against the very real, very lived erasure of Black and Brown women and gender expansive folks and their art and their lives. Listen to or imagine what they might have had to go through to get through and put some respect on it. I want to remind you that all the parts add up, even when it doesn’t feel so.
I’ve been wrestling with ego—that devil that’s always trying to sneak into the fissures—why do I not feel as supported publicly as others? I know a large part of it is because I am not loud by nature. I am not loud in my actions in real life and my demeanor online mirrors that. I do believe I am commanding—a presence. But I don’t think it translates the same. I think that’s what stands in the way of basic enthusiasm.
I promised myself I would start journaling. I haven’t yet. Not in the way I expected to at least. I find I'm having more conversations with myself the more I spend time away from the internet (which was minimal to begin with) and pour that time into reading. I am taking notes. I am sending screenshots to friends and voice notes about living. I am making an effort to make myself visible again on the page and in community. I said when I started journaling I would ask myself one question as a prompt until I was honest on the page.
The question (and the answer to my ego): what are you afraid of?
I’m not going to attempt to answer it here. It might show up in dribs and drabs over at AHWM. I am thankful for your patience while this space has been relatively quiet these past few months. Since the end of last year, something has been gnawing at me about the direction RM needs to head—a much more radical space than I could at first envision. In order to get there, some preparation must happen. Which means a few more months of relative quietness. We still have work planned for publication so don’t worry.
Raising Mothers turns 10 this August. That is no small feat. It still stands because it has deep purpose, maybe moreso now than ever before. I am going to be entirely honest and say that we need to increase our paid memberships to offset the cost of what needs to be accomplished. There is plenty to accomplish. So please chip in by becoming a paid subscriber if you’re currently free. Consider upgrading if you can afford it. Spending this past year working on
has both supercharged and fine-tuned my purpose.We are still the same as we started—not privately funded by any organizations. We are people-driven. People-funded. We still rely on your support to reach our goals. I believe so deeply in this work and the community it has created. We live the same world we have always lived in. Now it’s just exposed to more eyes. It’s time that we choose how and who we support based on fundamental truths instead of escape and fantasy. I want to know that when it’s time to show up, we’re all there—ready to do our part. Whatever that may be. We are also open to one-time donations to help us make some waves.
I would love to know your thoughts on a few things, so here are some polls. They don’t have an expiration date, but I’ll start with a tally next week. Here are some ideas I'm bumping around in my head that I’d like your input on.
As far as a book club, it would either be bi-monthly (alternating with the chats) or quarterly.
If you’re a paid member here, you’re more than welcome to join our silent writing sessions at
. Just send me an email and I will send along the link.You know what? This might not be the last time I’m this personal. But you won’t get sick of me, I promise.